


When I Come Home

by Sparrowsverse



Category: Bandom, Doctor Who (2005), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: bandombigbang, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, alien possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrowsverse/pseuds/Sparrowsverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a fob watch and a TARDIS for Bob Bryar to put his life together. A life he had forgotten was now reclaimed. He’s taken for a wild ride with Brian at his side as he tries to save the friends he thought were lost to him. Being an alien isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I just want to thank [laine89](http://laine89.livejournal.com/) and [akire_yta](http://akire_yta.livejournal.com/) for the fantastic beta’s and me flailing at them in emails and comments. They’ve been absolutely wonderful! This was written for the 2011 [bandombigbang](http://bandombigbang.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Art: [Artwork](http://sparrowsverse.livejournal.com/149782.html) by [undeny](http://undeny.livejournal.com/)  
> Fanmix: [Journeyman](http://sparrowsverse.livejournal.com/149513.html) by [thebunnyknows](http://thebunnyknows.livejournal.com/)

_Grass is always Greener ex 1: My neighbor that I didn't like moved out. I was happy. A drummer moved in. It sounds like he's in my driveway. — Brian Schechter’s Twitter, March 15, 2010._

Rain pelted down on the slicked down streets of Chicago. It was a dark and gloomy night as thunder and lightning overhead rumbled ominously

A groaning, wheezing sound filled the air as a phone booth materialized on the corner of the 'Christian Chicago Orphanage'. The overhead arch of the building protected the phone booth from the rain as the door of the phone booth banged open and shut to catch anyone's attention.

The door paused and then it slowly shut close. The sound sounded again and the phone booth slowly dematerialize, leaving behind its precious cargo. It wiggled in its basket and then a tiny wail erupted from its mouth when the thunder rumbled overhead.

The Orphanage doors opened and a woman in a yellow rain jacket came out with a flashlight. "Hello?"

Lightning erupted overhead and a cry caught her attention. She panned the flashlight over to the side and gasped, nearly dropping the flashlight in surprise.

"Oh, you poor tiny thing!" The woman cried out and rushed forward. She grabbed the basket and shielded the small toddler from the rain and brought it inside.

Inside it was warm and safe and the crying slowly subsided.

Eyes squeezed shut, slowly, they opened and blue eyes looked at the woman holding the basket. She set aside the flashlight onto the floor and moved the blankets away from the toddler’s face.

"Hey there, baby boy," The woman cooed at him and ran a finger down his cheek. "You're safe now. We've got you." She checked the basket for any kind of note but only saw a post-it stuck to the inside that said - Robert.

~~~

Bob was about five years old.

At least, that’s how old the social workers thought he was. He had been found on the steps of the orphanage in Chicago with no memory of anything. He knew the year and the basics. He could read and write no problem.

He didn’t have any memory from before he was five. It was like he had just appeared at the age of five and that was it. Who cares about the other four years he was alive and the nine months he spent in his mommy’s tummy?

He didn’t.

Really.

~~~

Bob was six and a half years old.

His adoptive mommy was crying as the policeman held her. His adoptive daddy wasn’t coming home.

He was in a car wreck and didn’t wake up.

Bob understood not waking up meant not coming home. He had to be strong for his mommy now.

~~~

He was fourteen now and just starting to get into the music scene.

He’d been playing the drums for as long as he could remember.

There was a beat to them that seemed to thrum in his entire body.

It felt right.

Things were finally starting to look up for him.

~~~

Bob was twenty-one and had put down his sticks a couple of years ago.

It felt like it was the right time to do so, and he had learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts. They were always right.

He had a degree in sound engineering from the Florida State University now.

And he was about to go on tour as a sound tech, and he couldn’t be more excited.

He was about to see the world.

~~~

Twenty-four years old, and Brian just asked him to drum for My Chemical Romance.

He leapt at the chance.

He got to fucking drum again.

And he got to do it with a band that claimed to save lives.

They were going to save his.

He just knew it.

~~~

Age twenty-nine, wrists fucked as hell, and he was slowly being shoved out of the band.

Thirty tracks they had recorded, enough for 2 albums, but the guys were acting weird—more weird than normal.

They were being downright mean to him, and he didn’t know what was wrong with them.

He knew something was wrong—his instincts never failed him; he just didn’t know what to do to fix them.

~~~

 

Bob wiped away the sweat from his brow as he shoved the last of his boxes into the living room. He had finally moved out to Los Angeles. A new start.

Especially since he couldn’t—

Shaking his head and absently massaging his wrist, Bob pushed the thought out from his head. It was a mutual decision.

He couldn't think of it any other way, even with the others acting weird the past few months. They had written at least thirty tracks together and then at the last second, Gerard decided to scrap them all because they didn't go with his 'artistic vision'.

That was the weird part, wanting to scrap at least thirty tracks and when he voiced his objections about not using the tracks; they attacked him verbally and were suddenly not the guys he'd toured with the past few years with. Not the guys he teched for free in Europe.

They were different and it unsettled Bob.

He tried working things out, offering compromises but it suddenly became World War III with New Jersey VS Chicago. He didn't have to put up with that kind of crap and with the way they were acting, if this was how it was going to be like from now on, he didn't want to be part of the band anymore.

So he used his wrists as an excuse and got out.

Things had gotten a bit better between Mikey and him, but that was about it, the others decided he didn’t exist and that suited him fine.

In the end, there was no more My Chemical Romance. No more drumming.

Just Bob Bryar: behind the scenes once again.

Bob took a couple of deep breaths and flexed his fingers into the shape of a fist and then back out again, calming himself enough to start putting together his drum kit.

He might not drum for one of the biggest bands in the world anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still mess around on his own kit.

It took him an hour to set it all up properly—toms, snare, bass and cymbals all strategically placed.

And then his throne.

 _“Welcome Bob Motherfucking Bryar back to the stage and his throne!”_

Shaking his head at the memories, he ran a fingernail down the cymbal; a small pinging sound rang out. Bob sighed and got to work on the other boxes. He’d treat himself to some hard-core drumming after he got his shit organized.

Dishes were unearthed, and packing newspaper was tossed into a nearby makeshift garbage and was stacked near the sink for washing. Linen was tossed into a nearby linen closet with the towels, and appliances were dug out. The coffee machine was the first to be set up. Bob would need that appliance if he wanted to survive the morning.

A duffle bag of clothes was tossed into his new bedroom, empty and bare of any personal belongings or furniture.

Movers would deliver the furniture tomorrow.

Deciding he was done for the day, Bob found his bag of drumsticks and headed over toward the drum kit.

Absently twirling the stick, Bob swore as his wrist twinged in pain, causing him to drop the stick. It bounced and rolled over to a marked box that said it was from ‘CHICAGO’ and ‘MOM.’

Sighing, Bob knew he pushed his wrists too much today and there would be no drumming for a couple of days. Tossing the sticks near his kit, Bob sat down cross-legged in a smooth move and opened the box with careful precision.

He didn’t think he left anything back in Chicago, but his mom was his mom, and she had some sort of freaky power of knowing exactly what he forgot.

Looking inside the box, Bob saw there were photo albums, an old stuffed animal, a smaller box and a few of his action figurines from the X-Men comic series. Bob took out the photo albums that were marked from the year ‘2005’ to current; he would look at those later—much later, when the hurt was less. The stuffed animal was taken out with a small smile.

It was a stuffed turtle that he had named Leonardo when he was seven. Half of the plush fur was missing from the stomach where Bob used to rub his cheek. And he could make out a few mends from his mom’s sewing needle. Setting the animal in his lap, he then pulled out the small box.

Bob slowly pulled the top off, and a note fluttered onto the ground. Inside the small box was a black case. Setting the black case down to the ground, Bob opened and read the note as he absently petted Leonardo.

 _Robert,_

 _This was with you the night you were found. I had forgotten about it, but when I was cleaning the attic a few weeks ago, I found it and remembered._

 _I thought you should have it._

 _Love you,  
Mom_

The note doesn’t exactly explain what ‘it’ was, and Bob glanced down at the small black case, wondering what was inside.

 _Found._

It was a word that haunted him from time to time. It brought up thoughts and questions that he thought he had gotten rid of.

He didn’t remember anything from before age five. He knew other people who had a few memories from when they were two or three or even four. Not him. He woke up five years old on the steps outside of an orphanage.

The police tried to find his biological parents, but they didn’t have any luck. He spent a year going from foster home to foster home before his mom and dad adopted him.

At six and a half he experienced his first true loss when his dad died in a car crash, and from then on, it was him and his mom against the world.

Picking up the black case, Bob turned it over in his hands, wondering what kind of douche bag biological parents he had that just left him on the orphanage steps with whatever it was in the box.

Bob popped the top open and saw a silver fob watch lying on dark crushed velvet. It had intricate geometric shapes carved into the metal and a chain attached at the top. His blue eyes widened as he traced a finger over the silver.

It felt familiar to him; like he had found a piece of himself he never knew he had lost.

Clasping the fob watch in his hand, Bob’s thumb inched up slowly. He was mesmerized by this object. He wanted to open it. No, he needed to open it. It was calling to him.

Bob’s thumb stroked the clasp as he lightly bit his lip ring in concentration, and he started to press down on it.

 **BANG! BANG! BANG!**

“Open the door, motherfucker!!”

“Fuck!” Bob swore as he was startled and dropped the watch. Quickly picking it up, he stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie.

Stalking toward the front door, Bob opened it and had a curse ready on his lips when he realized who was in his doorway. “Brian?”

“Bob Bryar! You never write, you never call and I had to find out from Pete Wentz—Pete Wentz!—that you had moved next door to me,” Brian stated as he pulled Bob into a one arm hug.

“You live next door?” Bob asked a bit dumbly. He didn’t expect Brian to be here. He had just picked a house in Los Angeles, far away from Chicago and memories, and moved in under a month after everything that happened.

It also showed how far apart he had grown from Brian that he didn’t even know where he lived in Los Angeles.

Brian had to look up a little, Bob’s five foot ten frame dwarfing his own five foot seven. A tattooed arm rose upward, and a strong hand curled around Bob’s bicep and squeezed in comfort.

In that gesture of comfort, Bob knew that Brian knew he had left the band and Brian was saying he was here for him.

Brian had left the music business because he had burned out. Bob left his band because they turned against him.

And after all of that, of him trying to put his life back together post-band, he was confronted with a face from the past.

“Wentz knows where I live?” Bob asked. It was the only thing he could think of to ask as Brian removed his hand.

“He knows all and sees all apparently,” Brian scoffed. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Moving to the side, Bob watched as Brian entered his new home.

“It’s a bit sparse in here,” Brian asked as he took in empty house.

“Furniture is getting delivered tomorrow,” Bob mumbled, running a hand over his beard.

They stood around in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. They hadn’t really talked to one another in a couple of years, not since Brian left. Just a few sparse emails and texts, but it looked like Brian would be in Bob’s life again.

“C’mon Bob, it’s depressing in here. Let’s go get take-out and get you drunk,” Brian decided.

Bob took a look around with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. His hand curled around the silver watch, and he decided Brian had the right idea.

“Yeah, let’s do that, but you’re paying,” Bob stated as he grabbed his keys and wallet.

Brian chuckled as they walked out of the house, Bob locking it behind him as they left.

~~~

 _An orange sky with trees of silver leaves green forests with golden fields and red deserts. It felt like home._

 _“EXTERMINATE!!!”_

 _The cries of people dying around him._

 _It was burning around him and then a pain in his head and it felt like his body was on fire. Shimmers of orange light flashed before his eyes._

 _An image of a silver fob watch came up, followed by a kid crying as rain poured around him._

~~~

Bob awoke with a start.

Groaning, he ran a hand down his face and grimaced as it came away wet. His entire body was damp with sweat.

Pushing the covers off of him, Bob absently scratched his bare stomach and pulled his sweats up a little as he padded over to the bathroom.

It had been three months since he moved into his new house, and a couple times a week he had that dream.

The dream felt important to him, but it was just flashes of images and impressions of feelings. It filled him with something he couldn’t describe.

Change was coming. He didn’t know when or where, but it was coming, and it would affect him. Bob didn’t know how he knew this just that he knew.

The last time he had this sort of feeling was when he joined My Chemical Romance, and look how that turned out in the end.

Bob splashed some water on his face and quickly towelled himself dry. He decided that in the morning after a shower and some coffee, he’d call Brian and see if he could pull some strings for Bob to do some teching.

Maybe he could get his head on straight and away from these dreams if he were on the road again.

~~~

The Bamboozle Road show.

A couple months of craziness was exactly what Bob needed to get away. Even Brian joined in as tour manager. It felt right working with him again, like they had gone full circle.

He’d gotten away from his own headspace and the dreams in Los Angeles, but now a new, yet not new, ache was penetrating his bones and making his wrists ache. It was a little bit worse when fans recognized him and tried to take pictures of him. It even got a little crazy at one point when one fan grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away.

Bob really missed Worm as he managed to disengage himself from the fan and get back to work.

The ache persisted throughout the tour, and Bob realized it was him wanting to get back up on stage and pound the shit out of the drums.

The solution he came up with was to work harder. He went full tilt for about two weeks straight, getting barely any sleep, when Brian cornered him one evening.

Bob was leaning against one of the teching trailers, cigarette in one hand and beer in the other, as he stared out into the night.

“What are you doing, Bryar?”

Startled, Bob nearly spilled his beer cup and choked on his cigarette. Coughing, Bob turned his head to glare at Brian. “Jesus, Schechter, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Brian smirked. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Bob stared at Brian and then finally looked away. “I’m relaxing; what does it look like?”

“I think it looks like you’re slowly killing yourself,” Brian pointed out. “You know, I never really thought you’d need an intervention.”

“I’m not an alcoholic or on drugs,” Bob muttered, but he knew what Brian was talking about. He could feel just the plain run downness of being on tour affecting him more than usual and a tickle in the back of his throat.

Damn it, he didn’t like getting sick.

Brian didn’t flinch at the comment of ‘alcoholic’ or ‘drugs.’ He’d done his share of therapy and had been clean and sober for years. “It’s an intervention of stupidity, Bob.”

“I’m fine.”

“‘Fine,’” Brian quoted in a monotone voice. “‘Fine’ like you were ‘fine’ when your leg nearly rotted off from gangrene or the staph infection? ‘Fine’ like when you did your first video shoot with an almost broken foot? ‘Fine’ like your wrists acting up ‘fine’?”

Bob scowled at Brian. “Yeah, like I said, fine.”

“Bob,” Brian said softly.

“Fuck you,” Bob growled out. “I’m fine!”

“So fine you’re running yourself ragged,” Brian pointed out. “The tour is over in a couple of weeks, so take it easy so you don’t make yourself sick. You’re such a little whiny bitch when you’re sick.”

Snorting, Bob took another gulp of his beer and a drag on his cigarette, nearly sucking it back to the filter. “I’ll be fine, Brian.”

~~~

Bob was dying.

That was the only explanation for the continued hacking, stuffed up nose and general achiness that Bob attributed to post tour tiredness. He wasn’t sick, really. He wanted to sleep through the night without hacking up a lung. He wanted his mom and her homemade soup.

Crap, he was sick.

He hated being sick, and he cursed Brian for being right. He _was_ a whiny little bitch when sick.

Grabbing another Kleenex, Bob blew his nose into it, and it sounded like a goose was dying in his house as green gunk came up and coloured the tissue.

Shivering in his long-sleeved shirt, Bob sighed and got out of his blanket fort and pillows, tossing the gunked up tissue into a nearby trash bucket. Bob opened up his closet and started to scrounge around for a clean-ish hoodie. He still hadn’t done any laundry after getting back; he was too busy being sick, and Brian was too busy to help him out at the moment.

A forced ‘ha’ escaped from his lips, quickly turning into a wet hacking cough as he found a semi-clean-ish hoodie. Pulling it over it his head, Bob breathed and a little wheeze escaped. Stuffing his hands into the pockets, Bob frowned as his hand encountered something heavy and metal.

Curling his fingers around the object, he pulled it out and frowned.

It was a fob watch.

What was this doing in his hoodie pocket?

Blue eyes widened as he remembered finding this in the box his mom sent him from Chicago. It was the watch that his biological parents left with him. How had he forgotten it?

Bringing it up to his face, Bob’s eyes took in the detailed geometrical shapes carved into the metal. It looked like writing or a pattern of some sort.

Turning it over, he traced the carving with the pad of his fingertip.

 _Open me._

“FUCK!” Bob cursed as he dropped the watch. It landed on the carpet with a dull thud.

 _Please? I’m tired of being in here._

“What the hell?” Bob muttered as he cautiously poked the fob watch with his toe.

 _Please?_

The voice sounded young, not quite a kid, but not quite an adult—an adolescent of some kind.

Bending over, Bob picked up the fob watch. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the clasp, and it popped open.

Frowning, he looked at it, turning it over in his hands. Inside, it had a normal face and hands, but it wasn’t working.

 _Tick, tick._

Soft wispy orange light started to escape from the watch. Bob wanted to drop the watch and run, run far away. But he couldn’t; it felt like the watch was moulding itself to his hand.

This, this was the change that had him running to go do teching.

Nothing would be the same after this fob watch finished whatever it was doing.

The light poured out faster and faster and started to engulf Bob. It invaded his skin and slinked its way into his nose, mouth and ears.

Bob started to moan as the pain became more apparent. It was nothing like he’d ever felt before. It was more pain than when he hurt his ankle, more than the burn on his leg, more than his wrists.

 _Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!_

Screams ripped from his throat; it felt like he was being rearranged from the inside out, and his head burned as though it were on fire. He welcomed the blackness that started to creep in around the edges of his eyes. It meant the pain was about to end.

 _Thank you._

Were the last words that Bob registered before he finally passed out, the watch clasped firmly in his hand as he fell face first into the carpet, unconscious.

END PART 1.


	2. Chapter 2

Brian was worried.

Bob hadn’t answered his phone the past few days. At first Brian thought it was because Bob was busy getting back to life post tour. But then he received an email from Mikey Way.

Mikey was worried something had happened to Bob when Bob didn’t show online for their weekly chat.

Lines of communication had been opened between the two. It was tentative and still a little painful after everything, but it showed Bob was healing and would remain friends with the guys—or at least with Mikey. The others had been acting weird lately, according to the bassist—weird even for them.

Shaking his head to chase away the thoughts of My Chemical Romance, Brian inserted the spare key Bob had given him in case Bob lost his. Brian turned the lock and entered the house.

The place was quiet, really quiet.

Bits and pieces of appliances were spread out all over the place, gutted and taken apart, like someone was trying to build something using all of these spare parts.

“Bob?” Brian cautiously called out.

Bob didn’t reply back.

Slowly entering the dwelling, Brian took a look around. Other than the scattered appliances, nothing looked too out of place. Brian took a deep breath and made his way to where Bob’s bedroom was. He slowly opened the door.

“Bob?”

Brian’s eyes widened in shock as he noticed the walls were newly covered in black Sharpie marker. Swirls of geometric shapes and smatterings of English words stood out most to Brian.

And then some sort of silver object on Bob’s bed caught Brian’s eye.

It was no bigger than an iPad, but thicker and heavier, and a piece of heavy plastic acted as a screen. It looked like that’s where the cannibalized appliance parts went.

Ignoring it for now, Brian called out again, “Bob now is the time to come out. I’m starting to get a little freaked out here.”

 _A little freaked out was an understatement._ Brian thought as he looked at the drawings on the wall again. He brought up a finger to trace the shapes. _What is going on in your head, Bob? This is a little crazy, even for you._

“Brian?”

Letting out a yelp of surprise, Brian spun around and came face to face with Bob, a Bob who was currently in a towel and using another towel to dry his hair and beard.

Brian pulled Bob into a hug. “Fucker, don’t scare me like that.”

Bemused, Bob patted Brian on the shoulder. “You realize you’re hugging me while I’m in a towel, right?”

Quickly pulling away, Brian punched Bob in the shoulder. “You had me worried, you ass! You want to tell me why you felt you had to Sharpie up your walls and gut your appliances?” Brian asked.

“Anything I might say at this point might make me sound crazy, Bri,” Bob said softly.

Brian waved a hand all over. “And this isn’t?”

Bob looked at what was on the walls and his mouth widen slightly in surprise. “Oh that. That stuff doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Brian asked incredulously. “You wrote on your walls with black Sharpie and dissected your appliances to make some sort of MacGyver-type tech!”

“Well, it sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“It sounds and looks like you had some sort of breakdown!” Brian yelled at Bob flapping his hands a little.

Bob crossed his arms over his bare chest. “No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t you get stubborn with me, Bob Bryar. You freaked Mikey and me out here,” Brian snarled, worried that something was really wrong with Bob. “I come over here because you hadn’t answered your phone in days and you missed some sort of online chat thing with Mikey. Now, what’s going on? And don’t lie to me; we know each other too well that I’ll be able to tell.”

Bob sighed. “Fine. Let me get some clothes on and then we’ll talk.”

Nodding, Brian left the bedroom to give Bob some privacy to change.

A few minutes later Bob emerged from his bedroom dressed in striped black and grey socks and black shorts that hung above his knees. Some sort of dark blue t-shirt peeked out from behind one of Bob’s customary hoodies, the zipper undone a bit. In his hands Bob was carrying the bit of technology from his bed and some sort of round metal thing.

Sitting on the couch, Brian watched as Bob laid them out in front of him on the table and then sat down on the ground.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on, Bryar?” Brian asked.

Bob ran a hand through his short hair and then his beard. “Not sure where to start.”

“The beginning is a good place.”

Snorting, Bob sighed. “There are two beginnings; the second one is probably the best one to start from.”

Brian had a ‘what the fuck’ look on his face and opened his mouth to say something, when Bob held up his hand.

“Brian, I promise this will make sense, okay? Just let me get this all out and then you can try and commit me.”

“Fine.”

“Did you know that I was adopted? Found on the steps of an orphanage at the age of five. Didn’t remember anything, just left there with a fob watch.” Bob gestured at the fob watch lying on the table. “Was adopted by my mom when I was six years old, and then my dad died six months later. Drunk driver smashed into him,” Bob smiled sadly. “You know the rest of my life pretty well; I grew up and got into some antics, as well as the Chicago scene. Drummed for a few bands then got a degree in sound, met you while doing sound for The Used, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what all of this is about, Bryar,” Brian demanded.

“I’m getting to it, Schechter,” Bob replied back. “Mom sent me a box of stuff from Chicago just before that teching gig I did for you. But in the box was the fob watch. I forgot about it really. I opened it a few days ago and in it was me, someone who I had forgotten I was.”

To Brian’s credit, he didn’t blink or so much as flinch. Years of dealing with My Chemical Romance had diminished his freak out metre.

“I’m an alien, Brian,” Bob continued on and pointed his finger upwards. “From outer space.”

Brian stared at Bob and then exploded off of the couch, “WHAT THE FUCK, BOB? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?”

Rolling his eyes, Bob got up and went around the table and grabbed Brian’s hands and placed them on his chest.

“I am not feeling up your man boobs here, Bryar!” Brian stated and tried to pull away from Bob’s strong grip and then paused.

Eyes narrowing, Brian looked up at Bob and then back at Bob’s chest and leaned in, ear pressed against the fabric. Then he switched to the other side of Bob’s chest. Brian’s eyes widened and he found himself scrambling backward until the back of his knees hit the couch and he hit the cushions with a thud.

“You have two heartbeats, Bob,” Brian got out.

Bob nodded. “Yeah, my species has two hearts,” he said running a hand over his beard. “Kinda makes this samba beat if you listen to it through a stethoscope.”

“You have two heartbeats, Bob,” Brian said again.

Bob snapped his fingers a couple of times in front of Brian’s face. “You freaking out on me here, Schechter?”

 _Of course I’m fucking freaking out here!_ Brian thought wildly. _One of my best friends tells me he’s an alien, offers proof and and I’m not suppose to freak out?_ Brian swatted the fingers away and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m good, just gimmie a minute here.”

After the minute that Brian asked for, Bob placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder and asked softly, “Brian?”

Standing up quickly and knocking Bob’s hand off his shoulder, Brian smiled wide and looked a little manic. “So, alien, huh?”

Bob nodded and took a step back. “Yeah, alien.” Brian still seemed a little wound up.

“And what, you’ve always known you were an alien and only now you decided to share?”

“No, for all of my human life here on Earth, I was human,” Bob explained. “But when I opened that fob watch, it released the stored up energy and DNA of my alien self and restored me to my original self.”

“So it was an accident that released alien you?” Brian laughed.

Bob sheepishly grinned. “Yeah.”

“So, what kind of alien are you anyways? You look human.”

“And you look Time Lord,” Bob snorted. “Time Lords came first.”

Brian’s eyebrows rose in frank disbelief.

Bob grimaced and rubbed a hand through his beard. "Sorry, my species, we're a little arrogant."

"So, Time Lord?"

"It's a title that I earned," Bob said stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. "I went to school to get that title. But yeah, Time Lord is just a title that my people used. I come from a planet called Gallifrey, so I'm technically Gallifreyian, but use Time Lord to describe what I do."

"And what does that mean? What you do?"

Bob looked a little sheepish. "Well, in layman terms, I'm a time traveler, Bri."

Brian's eyebrows rose and he quietly freaked the fuck out. "Time travel is real?"

Bob nodded.

"Fuck."

Bob snorted.

"So what happened? Why are you on Earth and not," Brian waved a hand through the air. "Time traveling and whatever your people do."

"We were just about to go to war with a race called Daleks. Really nasty, you don’t want to run into them,” Bob explained as patiently as he could. What he learned was that you didn't share information with lesser species, but Brian was his friend and he'd been living as a human for the past thirty or so odd years. He could not explain it to Brian. It was Brian. “Last thing I remember is a lot of pain, and I think I was de-aged, turned human and left on those orphanage steps.”

"So, someone got the drop on you," Brian pointed out, trying to wrap his head around everything he was being told.

"Nearest I can figure out."

Brian nodded, “Okay, so you lived however long on Earth and then got deaged, so you were a different age before you got dropped here." He eyed Bob. "So, how old are you really and how did someone manage to change your species? Last time I checked that wasn't possible.”

Bob grimaced, not sure on how to answer what Brian was asking. “Listen, Brian. You have to realize my kind is very long lived, but last I checked, I’m about a hundred and forty.”  
In hindsight, Brian realized missing the couch when he went to go sit down was a bad idea as he hit the floor hard. “A HUNDRED AND FORTY?” Yelling wasn’t probably good either.

Bob hunched and stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets—the perfect picture of Bob Bryar being defensive.

Brian sighed and slowly stood up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out again.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Just a lot you’re throwing at me here.”

Bob scowled at Brian. “Fucker.”

“I know,” Brian nodded, agreeing with Bob. “So, change in species?”

“Best I can figure out is someone used a Chameleon Arch on me,” Bob explained. “It’s a piece of Gallifreyian tech that allows someone to change species, and then they de-aged me somehow and sent me to Earth.”

“How’d the hell did you let someone get the drop on you, Bryar?” Brian asked in a teasing voice.

“I don’t know, and I don’t remember, Schechter,” Bob replied back in a flat tone. “I was just about to go to war.” And then Bob’s eyes looked sad. “I don’t know if anyone survived or if the war is over.”

“Right, right,” Brian nodded to himself and then looked at Bob. “So, how do we find out what happened?”

“We?”

Brian lightly smacked Bob on the shoulder. “Yeah, we, you dumbass. I’m not letting you do this on your own.” _Especially after everything you told me._

Bob softly smiled at Brian, and the defensiveness left his posture. “Thanks Brian.” And then Bob looked serious. “As to how we find out what happened next,” He pointed at the manmade iPad, “we use this to find my spaceship.”

“Of course, you have a spaceship,” Brian chuckled.

“Well, time ship technically, but it gets me around,” Bob grinned.

“Right, time ship.” Brian threw up his hands. “What else could it be?”

Snickering, Bob grabbed the manmade iPad and booted it up. The screen lit up as a series of symbols danced on the screen. Bob’s fingers flew over the screen, and a 3D map of North America appeared above it.

“Whoa,” Brian muttered.

The map zoomed in on America and then the state of Illinois, and then it zoomed on the city, Chicago. A dot blinked on the city, but it didn’t elaborate any further.

“Looks like we’re going home, Schechter,” Bob smirked at Brian.

“Great, Windy City, here we come,” Brian deadpanned.

~~~

Slush littered the grounds of Chicago, and Brian cursed coming back home. It was wet and windy, and he was miserable as he watched Bob tinker with the homemade iPad time ship finder.

In the last few hours, Brian had gone from being in L.A., freaking out over Bob maybe having a mental breakdown, to finding out one of his best friends was a freaking alien—from space. It was a little suspicious at how fast they were able to get tickets and get here, but Brian wasn’t going to complain.

Bob needed him. It was as simple as that.

Pulling out his Sidekick, Brian fired off a couple of texts to Mikey, letting him know Bob was fine, just got caught up in a new project and forgot to charge his phone and a power surge had fried the laptop.

It was a piece of crap that Brian was sure Mikey saw right through, but it was all he had at the moment. Huddled in his hoodie slash windbreaker combo, Brian pocketed his phone and blew warm air into his hands. “Any luck yet?”

Brian was ignored as Bob’s fingers flew over the touch screen and little puffs of air escaped from Bob’s lips as he muttered curses that didn’t sound English to Brian.

“Right, now you decide to go alien on me,” Brian muttered as he looked around. The two were in front of the orphanage that Bob had been ‘left’ in front of. It was an imposing building of stone and heavy wooden doors.

And just like the rest of Chicago, it screamed it had history.

A beeping noise brought Brian out of his musings, and Bob seemed a bit more animated.

Approaching Bob, Brian leaned against him and looked at the mcguyvered iPad. “Did Lassie find Timmy down the well?”

Snorting, Bob hit the screen a few more times with his fingers. “Something like that.” Bob reached out and grabbed Brian by his jacket and pulled him along. “C’mon, Schechter, we’re close.”

Stumbling a bit at the sudden tug, Brian quickly found his feet and followed the quickened pace that Bob had set. “Fucker, some of us are shorter than others.”

“Should’ve drank your milk when you were younger,” Bob shot back.

They had only gone a couple of blocks from the orphanage building when they stopped in front of a high stone fence covered in ivy with pointed finials on top. It almost looked like a gate, but it didn’t have any type of door.

“I used to come here all the time when I lived at the orphanage,” Bob whispered. Bob hesitated and placed a hand on the stone wall and pushed.

A startled yelp escaped from his lips as he fell forward and through the wall.

“Bob!” Brian called out and ran after his friend through the stone wall without a second thought.

Branches and brush battered at Brian’s body as he brought his hands up to protect his face. As he continued forward the growth became less dense; soon, he hit Bob’s back and fell backward.

An undignified noise escaped from Brian’s lips as he stared upwards and glared at the back of Bob’s hoodie. “Any reason why we stopped our little journey here, Bryar?”

But Bob kept quiet.

“Bob?”

There was still no response. Concerned for his friend, Brian quickly got to his feet and stepped in front of Bob. “Bob?”

Bob gestured behind Brian. “She’s still here.”

Glancing behind him, Brian only saw a very large white oak tree. It was indigenous to Chicago. It was actually the state tree of Illinois, but that didn’t really concern Brian. What concerned him was that Bob seemed to have gone crazier.

“It’s just a white oak, Bob,” Brian stated gently as he rubbed Bob’s arm in a comforting manner. “They’re all over the place here in Chicago.”

Bob growled at Brian. “It has a cameoflage filter on it. It’s made to look like something in the area so people don’t steal it.” Side stepping Brian, Bob grabbed the sleeve of Brian’s jacket and manhandled him toward the tree. “C’mon.”

Protesting, Brian tried to dig his heels in. “I am not getting in the tree, Bob!”

Bob smirked and propelled Brian forward.

Losing his balance, Brian found himself going head first into the white oak. He closed his eyes and waited for the impact that would most likely give him a broken nose and a concussion. When it didn’t come, he cautiously opened his eyes and gaped in wonder.

The room was circular and lights were slowly turning on for the occupants in the ship. The walls were covered in heavy cords of grey, black, blue, with the odd red one threaded through. Glancing down, Brian could see that the floor was see-through, almost like glass, and that the cords snaked down. In the middle of the room was some sort of hexagonal consol board. Each side that protruded out looked like a different mixing board to Brian, and it oddly fit with the theme of the ship. In the centre of the hexagon was a large clear tube that glowed blue, and inside the tube was some sort of rotor that moved up and down. Off to the side of the room there were two doorways that Brian guessed went into the interior of the ship. There was also a couple of puffy black leather couches with a couple of blankets thrown on them on the other side as well.

“It’s—it’s—” Brian stammered.

Bob came up from behind Brian and squeezed his shoulder. “Freaking out on me again, Brian?”

Brian felt his eye twitch. “Just a little. It’s certainly bigger on the inside than the outside.”

“That’s what she said,” Bob joked.

It broke the tension, and Brian laughed hard.

Wiping away the tears of mirth, Brian walked over to the console and lightly let his fingers dance over the buttons and various nodes. “So, we found your ship. Now what?”

“Now, I take you home and then I go find out what happened to my planet and people.”

“Excuse me?” Brian asked incredulously.

“I’m taking you home, Brian,” Bob said patiently. “My species, they’re not tolerant of humans. If I took you with me, they’d most likely erase your memories and then send you home. This way, you at least still remember.”

Brian glared at Bob as he stalked over and jabbed a finger into Bob’s chest. “I think that’s my decision and risk to make, Bryar.”

Frustrated, Bob ran a hand through his hair. “Fine, you stubborn asshole, but don’t come crying to me when they mess you up so bad you can’t remember to tie your own shoelaces.”

Brian just smirked.

Bob pointed a finger at Brain. “When we land on my planet, you don’t get out of the ship for anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“No matter what, Schechter.”

Brian held up his hand and crossed his heart with the other. “I promise.”

“Good, that’s good,” Bob stated.

“So, how do we get this bird in the air?” Brian asked.

“ _You_ don’t; _I_ do. And we’re going into the Time Vortex, not the air.”

Brian made some sort of mocking sound and then headed over to the leather couches and flopped down. “And it’s a jump to the left.”

Ignoring Brian, Bob went to work on the mixing boards that were acting like control panels. Buttons and switches were pressed and flipped and the rotor in the blue-lighted tube started to make some sort of grinding sound. Finally, the ground moved.

“WHOA!” Brian yelled out in surprise as the force rolled him off the couch. Getting to his feet, Brian glared at Bob, who was smirking in his direction. “Fucker. You did that on purpose.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

Stomping loudly over to where Bob was manning the controls, Brian punched Bob in the arm, hard, and glanced at the screen that started to lower down. “So how long is it going to take to get us there?”

“Not long.”

And that was the end of that conversation as Bob re-familiarized himself with the controls. Eyes occasionally glanced at the screen that was covered in the same strange geometric shapes that covered Bob’s walls back home. Reaching over, Brian tapped the screen. “Do these mean something? They were covered all over the walls of your LA home.”

Looking at what Brian was pointing at, Bob gave a smile. “It’s the written word of my original language.”

“So what? They were huge math geeks?” Brian joked.

Bob snorted. “Something like that, Schechter. Only it went beyond the math you know.”

“Huh.” Brian shrugged. “Well, it’s always—”

The rest of Brian’s sentence was cut off as the TARDIS encountered turbulence. Grabbing the mixing board in front of him, Brian tried to find his balance. “What’s going on, Bryar?”

Bob’s fingers flew over the boards. “I don’t know, we should be at Gallifrey right now.”

“Can’t your screen bring up a visual or something?”

Bob pounded on a big blue button at the top of the board, and Brian could see the tension in Bob’s fist from where it rested as a bigger flat screen was lowered.

Swirling fields of orange and red dust and scattered space rocks littered the area.

But there was no Gallifrey in sight.

A strangled moan and some sort of whine escaped from Bob’s throat as he collapsed to his knees. Brian caught him on the way down as Bob’s hand gripped the board, fingers pushing a couple of buttons, and they were off once again into what Brian assumed was the Time Vortex.

“It’s gone,” Bob whispered. “It’s all gone.”

Brian pulled Bob close and held him as the Time Lord poured out his rage and grief. Mumblings of ‘that’s why I couldn’t hear them?’ and ‘why?’ and ‘was it the Daleks?’ came from Bob’s mouth. Brian rubbed Bob’s back in circular motions as his jacket absorbed the moisture from Bob’s tears.

A shuddery breath escaped from Bob’s lips. “I’m the last one left, Brian.”

“I know, I know,” Brian said softly and continued rubbing Bob’s back. “I gotcha.” Moving so Bob was in a more comfortable position, he started to pet Bob’s hair. “We’re going to have to move, Bob. This position can’t be good for your wrists.”

Snuffling, Bob rubbed his nose against Brian’s t-shirt. “Wrists are fine. When I changed species it healed any damage I suffered as a human. So perfect wrists once again.”

Brian pulled in Bob closer as Bob clung to him, slowly falling to sleep.

“Perfect,” Brian sighed as Bob’s weight became more apparent. Grunting, Brian got to his feet and hauled Bob up. “Let’s get you over to the couches, you dead weight.”

As he started to carry Bob toward the couches, a series of whistles and lights caught his attention. Looking at the flat screen, Brian saw there was an arrow pointing toward the doorway and lights were lighting up on the floor, directing him toward the opening and into the ship.

“Guess we’re heading in.”

Grunting, Brian propped Bob up more and followed the lights on the floor into the ship. It was a series of two lefts, a right, past a garbage bin and another left before they stopped in front of the door. “I hope this is it, because he is a heavy Time Lord.” Brian called out to the ship.

The door whooshed open, and Brian found himself inside a large room with nothing but wood flooring and a raised bed in the middle. It looked half decorated.

Brian prepared himself for the final stretch and brought Bob over to the bed. Turning them around, he let them fall backward so their backs hit the comforter.

“Holy crap, I am never moving from this bed again,” Brian declared as he stretched out the kinks in his shoulders and back. After a few minutes of bliss, Brian got up and started to work Bob’s shoes off and then pulled the covers back and tucked Bob in. A hand caught his and Brian looked down to see Bob cuddling it close to his chest. Sighing, Brian climbed over Bob and lay over the covers and became the big spoon for the time being.

“What I do for you kid,” Brian murmured as he slowly fell asleep.

~~~

When Brian awoke, it was to an empty bed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he got out and followed the lights on the floor back to the control room of the TARDIS.

Smiling at the sight of Bob’s legs sticking out from underneath the console, he walked up and banged the board. “You alive down there, Bryar?”

There was a banging sound so loud you could hear Bob’s head bang up against the inside of the board and then muttered swearing. Inching his way out, Bob trained a pair of icy blue eyes on Brian, promising death as he rubbed his forehead. “Death, there is death in your future, Schechter.”

Brian just grinned and helped Bob up. “Promises, promises.”

Bob looked a bit hesitant and then pulled Brian into a quick hug. “Thanks for last night.”

“No problem,” Brian said patting Bob on the back awkwardly. “Although if I knew all it took was for you to turn into a giant girl was to change species—”

Blue eyes narrowed, and Bob punched Brian in the arm hard.

“So what were you doing down there?” Brian asked, smirking as he ignored the sting in his arm.

“A tune up, it’s been a while for her,” Bob explained as he gestured at the ship.

“Her?”

Bob patted the mixing board. “Yeah, her. She’s an organic ship and can understand us, Brian.”

Hazel eyes widened in surprise as Brian looked around.

“TARDISes are grown, not built,” Bob smirked at his friend.

“Wow,” Brian said in awe and also patted the mixing board. Then Brian looked at Bob, even though his friend got some sleep last night, Bob still looked tired. “Are those the clothes you slept in last night?”

Bob looked down at himself and then looked back up. “No. I changed my hoodie.”

“Well, la-dee-da,” Brian sing-songed. “What are we going to do now?”

Looking at Brian, Bob contemplated what he wanted to do next, and he knew what he had to do. “I have to find out what happened to my planet and my people.”

“Of course,” Brian agreed and then levelled Bob with a glare. “You do realize I’m coming with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Bob chuckled. “I know better than to argue.”

“Damn right.” And then Brian looked contemplative. “Can’t you use your ‘I see everything that was, is and will be’ thingy?”

“It’s called a Time Sense, Bri,” Bob said and then he frowned. “And no, I can’t. It’s like it’s blocked from seeing what happened to Gallifrey.”

“Well, crap.”

“Yeah.” Bob shook his head. “We’re going to have to do some investigating.”

“All right and how are we going to do that?”

Bob gestured at the TARDIS. “She picked up some readings at where Gallifrey was, and I’ll analyze them and go from there. Hopefully, I’ll be able to build something to follow the trail of whatever destroyed Gallifrey.”

“Well at least this type of traveling will be more comfortable than a tour bus,” Brian grumbled.

Chuckling, Bob agreed. “You can say that again. We are traveling in style.”

“We’re going to have to head back to Earth, though, to let my boss know I’m going to be gone for a bit,” Brian explained.

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Brian, we’re in a time ship. I can get us back to the minute we left Chicago.”

Brian looked taken back. “Oh right.” A sheepish look spread across Brian’s face. “I forgot there for a minute.”

“Idiot,” Bob said fondly.

“Drummer boy,” Brian snarked back.

Bob just grinned and went back to fine tuning the TARDIS.

END PART 2.


	3. Chapter 3

Brian lost sense of time in the TARDIS. He didn’t know how long he’d be in the TARDIS, just that they did a lot of running and seemed to run into the strangest things.

A lot of the places they went to were for parts for Bob to build his analyzer. But they also ran into trouble.

 _Yeah, a lot of trouble._ Brian thought as he stomped toward the TARDIS.

Bob was trailing behind him, a part in one hand and looking chagrined. “I am so sorry about that, Brian. I had no idea the Ilk would do that to you.”

Spinning on his heel, Brian crossed his arms under his chest. “I currently have boobs and a vagina, Bob.”

“They only did that to you because they thought you were my mate and the wrong gender,” Bob explained as he dug a toe into the dirt. “It’ll wear off in a few days.”

Wordlessly snarling, Brian turned back around as he stalked toward the ship, flipping off his middle finger back to Bob. “Few days, my new crotch!”

Keeping quiet Bob followed the new female, but only for a few days, back onto the TARDIS.

~~~

Bob was running full tilt towards the TARDIS, hoodie flapping behind him as he carried his precious cargo.

“Mrrr!” the cat in Bob’s arms cried out.

“Quiet, Brian!” Bob hissed as he sped up; he was almost there. “I’ll be able to change you back inside.”

“MROW!!” Brian cried out as he dug his claws in.

Snarling, Bob launched himself toward a tree and disappeared inside as a few arrows hit the dirt where he was just standing.

Within seconds the tree disappeared with a wheezing grinding sound.

~~~

“I have tentacles, Bob,” Brian complained as one of the tentacles maneuvered forward and grabbed Bob’s wrist. “TENTACLES!”

“It’s just an allergic reaction to the atmosphere here,” Bob explained.

“So how come you don’t have tentacles?”

“Because I’m not human,” Bob explained and tried to detangle himself from Brian’s wandering tentacles. “They’ll go away in a week or so.”

Brian just groaned as a tentacle came up and patted his cheek.

~~~

“Why don’t these things happen to you?” Brian complained.

“Because I’m awesome?” Bob grinned and then ducked the wing that almost hit him in the head.

Brian glared at Bob as the black wings arched up. “I have wings, Bryar.”

“Beautiful plumage,” Bob snickered.

Growling, Brian headed back to the TARDIS and called over his shoulder. “Let me guess! It’ll go away in a few days.”

“Something like that, Schechter!” Bob called back.

~~~

Bob sighed as he grabbed the wandering hand going for his ass and gave it back to Brian. "We talked about this, Schechter."

"But Bob, you're so pretty!" Brian giggled and hugged Bob around the mid section.

It was a harmless plant that the locals used all the time as a spice in their daily foods. But when combined with a human physiology, it acted almost like a love potion to use a crude term, and it made the affected person really affectionate.

A hand crept up and started to pet Bob's chest. Sighing again, Bob stilled the hand, but kept it there and herded Brian toward the TARDIS.

Once they got into the TARDIS, he could hopefully metabolize the plant faster in Brian's system. But for now, he had a grabby affectionate friend who was going to be so embarrassed later on.

A smirk crept across Bob's lips, when he got inside, he'd get the TARDIS to start recording. Chuckling, Bob could only think one thing—blackmail.

Yelping as Brian's other hand grabbed at his ass, Bob quickened his pace to where he last parked his time ship.

~~~

They don’t talk about the sentient alien space cows.

Ever.

There’s a blood oath involved and a promise to put it out of their minds completely.

~~~

The space soap bubbles were weird as well, but that’s another story they don’t talk about either.

~~~

It was another planet and another part. Some of the items he needed were getting harder and harder to find, even with a time ship to go when and where he wanted.

Brian was passed out on one of the couches, exhausted from their latest excursion. Apparently being a sacrifice to the locals God was tiring.

 _Poor guy._

Bob shook his head and decided he’d do something nice for his friend. Going over, Bob pulled out Brian’s Sidekick from his pants pocket and took it over to the console. Grabbing a cable, he plugged the phone into the board and went to work. When he was done, Brian would be able to get service wherever he was.

Bob fiddled with the settings and pushed a few buttons and then moved one of the faders on the board up, causing the phone to chirp with a series of whistles and beeps, before it vibrated and went still.

The phone then furiously vibrated as Bob looked at the screen.

 _7 New Text Messages Missed._ The phone proclaimed.

Feeling curious, Bob went to the message screen and saw they were from Mikey. Frowning, he started to read the messages.

 _bri, now wld b good time to pick up phone_

 _pls pick up nao!!_

 _brian!! need help!!_

 _smthng wrong w/gee & the guys_

 _cnt fake being 1 of them ne-more, so tired_

 _theyre possessed or smthng by aliens!_

 _HELP!!!!_

Bob’s blue eyes grew wider as he read each message, and something clicked in his head. It also explained a few things before he was let go slash fired from My Chem—the constant belittling, the snide remarks and finally a band meeting to discuss his future.

His eyes widened as he remembered a three-day migraine. Did they try to possess him too, and it didn’t take and that’s why they kicked him out?

His band had been fucking possessed by aliens, and he didn’t notice because he was too human then and too ignorant. But now, now he could do something about this and rescue Mikey and the others.

Quickly walking over to Brian, Bob kicked the man in the leg. “Wake up, fucker!”

“NO! I don’t want to be sacrificed!” Brian cried out as he woke up. Looking up at Bob, Brian blinked a couple of times and rubbed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Bob tossed Brian his phone. “I souped it up and oh yeah, read your messages. We have to go rescue Mikey and free the others.”

Brian looked confused as he caught his phone and thumbed through the messages. Hazel eyes widened at each message. “Possessed?”

“It explains a few things from before,” Bob muttered darkly as he headed over to the console and sent the TARDIS into the vortex.

“Before?” Brian inquired as he stumbled slightly from the TARDIS entering the vortex.

Bob waved Brian off. “Not yet, Brian. I just have suspicions, and when we go rescue Mikey, I’ll be able to explain better.”

Brian pointed at Bob. “You better.”

“Promise.”

The TARDIS landed with a gentle thump, and the two headed out the front door. The sun shone brightly on them and they looked around, realizing they were in the desert. Looking around, they saw an abandoned diner behind them with a gas station off to the side.

It almost looked like a movie set of some sort as they eyed various vans tucked to the side and out of the way, and a couple of tents were off to the side.

“Where the hell are we?” Brian muttered as he shaded his eyes with a hand.

Bob pulled out an iPhone from his hoodie pocket and pressed a thumb to the screen. “Looks like we’re in the desert in California.”

“Why would Mikey be here?” Brian wondered aloud as they started to walk amongst the dust and dirt and buildings.

Bob shrugged. “No idea.”

They continued to walk for a few more minutes, eyeing an abandoned Trans-Am car and vending machines, and everywhere they went, it was empty.

“I really don’t like this, Bob,” Brian muttered. “It’s too empty.”

“And that usually means trouble,” Bob muttered back.

“You know, it almost looks like an abandoned movie set,” Brian suddenly comment.

Bob gestured at a set of lights and cameras put off to the side. “I think you’re right.”

Idly kicking at a loose rock, they continued walking around the diner building when Bob stopped them short. Flattening himself to the side of the building, Brian following suit. Bob looked around the side and his lips pressed into a hard thin line.

Brian tapped Bob on the shoulder. “What’s going on?” he whispered.

“I found the guys and they have Mikey surrounded,” Bob whispered to Brian.

“Shit!”

They crept low and to the ground as they hid behind some large white tub like bins.

 _“We just want to talk, Mikey,”_ Ray’s voice called out.

 _“It’ll be all right, Mikey,”_ Gerard’s voice said.

 _“Doesn’t hurt one little bit,”_ Frank’s voice now said.

 _“You’re not my band! You’re not my friends or my brother!”_ Mikey yelled aloud.

Laughter echoed around them, and it sounded wrong.

Brian shuddered. “Jesus.”

Muttering under his breath, Bob pulled out his iPhone and started to furiously tap on it with his fingers.

“Seriously!” Brian whispered fiercely at Bob and punched the drummer in the shoulder. “Mikey’s in trouble and you’re tapping away on your iPhone?”

 _“Gee! You need to fight!”_ Mikey cried out.

“Schechter, shut up,” Bob growled at him as he continued to tap away at his phone.

“Screw this shit,” Brian muttered and started to get up, but was halted by Bob gripping his arm. “Five more seconds, Brian,” Bob stated, fingers furiously moving.

Slowly counting to five, Brian was about to get up and tell Bob to fuck off when a high-pitched beeping noise sounded from Bob’s iPhone.

Screams sounded from Gerard, Ray and Frankie that startled Brian so much he stood up. Brian looked at the area where they had surrounded Mikey and saw the trio were on the ground holding their heads in agony as Bob quickly moved from behind the bins and toward the stunned bassist.

Brian quickly followed.

Mikey Way in his red jacket, yellow and black striped shirt and black pants looked at them with wide, scared eyes. “Bob? Brian?” he asked incredulously.

Brian pulled Mikey into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me with those texts, Mikeyway.”

Pulling away from the hug, Mikey cautiously approached Bob and looked at the former drummer up and down.

Sighing, Bob pulled Mikey into a hug. “Missed you, Mikeyway.”

“Missed you too, Bob,” Mikey replied and sighed in relief as he held onto Bob a bit longer.

The others started to stir on the ground and a moaning sound caught Bob’s attention as he looked down. He looked back up at Mikey. “C’mon Mikey, time to go,” Bob ordered as he grabbed Mikey’s arm and pulled him forward.

Mikey let himself be dragged forward, following Bob and Brian. Their pace quickened as they half jogged half walked toward a vending machine on the side of the diner.

“What are you doing?” Mikey asked in confusion, dragging his heels a little. “It’s just a prop for the music video shoot.”

“Trust us,” Brian told Mikey and pushed the bassist toward the vending machine and watched as Mikey disappeared inside with a yelp. Bob and Brian quickly followed suit.

They rushed past the confounded musician as Bob and Brian headed to the mixing board controls. Various buttons and levers were pushed and pulled and adjusted and the TARDIS took off with a rumble into the Time Vortex.

“What the hell was that?” Brian yelled at Bob and pointed at the door. “What the hell was wrong with them?”

“I don’t know,” Bob scowled darkly. “But I’m going to find out.” He then started toward Mikey, who was standing still and looking around everywhere.

“Mikey?” Bob asked in concern and lightly touched Mikey on the arm.

Blinking, Mikey looked at Bob. “We’re in a spaceship.”

“Technically a time ship,” Bob corrected. “It’s called a TARDIS.”

“Time ship,” Mikey repeated flatly and blinked rapidly. In Mikey language, he was freaking out.

 _Three, two, one._ Bob thought and then watched Mikey gasp.

“What the fucking fuck, Bob?” Mikey yelled and flailed around about a bit. “How the hell did you and Brian get a fucking time ship?” Then his eyes widened. “Are you two aliens?” He started to back up a bit toward the door.

“Mikey, hey,” Bob’s voice softened, hands held out. “Brian’s not an alien, but I am.”

Mikey started shaking his head, “No, no, no, and no!” He bolted toward the TARDIS’s doors and flung them open to escape. He pin wheeled at the edge and looked at the stars outside of the TARDIS.

“We’re in space,” Mikey said in a small voice.

Bob came up behind Mikey. “Yeah.”

Mikey turned around and looked at Bob. Hands came up and touched Bob’s face, manipulating the skin, and fingers ran through his hair. They came down and tugged on the lip ring a little as the hands ran over Bob’s shoulders and then settled on Bob’s chest.

Eyes widened. “You have two hearts.” Mikey leaned in to listen to the heartbeats.

“I do.”

Mikey looked into Bob’s blue eyes. “Have you always been an alien?”

Bob waved his hand. “Yes and no.”

“Well? What is it? Yes or no?”

Bob sighed and pulled Mikey into the TARDIS, closing the doors. “I was born a Time Lord and then something happened to me. I was de-aged and turned human. I grew up human and thought I was human.” Bob shrugged. “You’ve met my mom. I have been nothing but Robert Nathaniel Cory Bryar to her, since the day she adopted me.”

“So, the alien thing is a recent but old development,” Mikey pondered aloud and tried to wrap his head around this new fact.

“Yeah.”

Mikey ran a hand through his hair.

“We okay, Mikeyway?”

Nodding, Mikey headed over to one of the leather couches and sat down, hands clasped over his knees. Brian headed over to Mikey and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Mikey leaned into the touch and tears trailed down his cheeks.

Bob came over and sat down on the table in front of Mikey and Brian. “You ready to tell us what happened?”

Sniffling, Mikey wiped away his tears and tucked himself into Brian’s side. “It started when we first started recording for the new album, the one before Danger Days.” He gestured at Bob. “You remember.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I remember a migraine that lasted me three days,” Mikey admitted. “We all had them. But after, it was after that everything was different.” Bob nodded as Mikey continued. “It was like I was there, but I wasn’t there. I could move and control myself, but every once in a while there’d be something else speaking through me or controlling me.” He looked up at Bob, tears prickling at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to call you those things, honest, Bob!” Mikey pulled himself from Brian’s grasp and drew Bob into a hug.

Bob returned the hug and lightly ran his hand up and down Mikey’s back. “I know, Mikeyway.”

Sniffling, Mikey drew back and into the couch, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “It was like I was being controlled by a Yeerk or something. You remember that Animorph book series and TV show?” Mikey shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I was me again. I was in control.” He then looked at Bob through his fringe of blond hair. “And then you were gone, Bob. The others talked about it, said it didn’t take with you. Whatever was done to us, you were okay.”

“Alien physiology at work even when I was human,” Bob smirked a little.

“Wish I had a little bit of that,” Mikey said softly and then sighed. “I pretended to be one of them for a while there. We finished the Danger Days album, released the single Na Na Na and we were just working on the music video for it when they figured me out.” He started to sniffle. “I think they were going to try and infect me again or kill me.”

Bob sighed and patted Mikey’s foot. “We’re going to figure this out, Mikey and why you stopped being possessed.”

Mikey shrugged and poked Bob’s hand with his big toe. “Weird brain chemistry? My meds acting up again? I don’t know!”

“Hey!” Bob grabbed Mikey’s foot again and shook it lightly. “We. Will. Figure. This. Out.”

Mikey nodded slowly, not sure if he believed the former drummer.

~~~

In the medical room of the TARDIS, Mikey Way laid flat out on a hospital bed with a blue light slowly scanning him. Bob was beside him manning the controls and making noises at the screen as the scan listed past and current injuries and ailments of the bassist. It slowed down more at Mikey’s head and started beeping excitedly.

Bob poked at the screen as he ignored the two humans in the room.

“He seems more intense,” Mikey whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Brian who was sitting on the bed next to him.

“Mmm, a little bit more,” Brian agreed as he swung his legs. He wasn’t the one getting scanned for once! “I think it’s a Time Lord thing, its Bob’s intensity, but it’s like it’s amped up even more.”

Mikey made an agreeing sound.

“He collects even more socks now,” Brian said in a knowing and weary tone.

“I wasn’t sure that was possible!” Mikey giggled.

“From all kinds of vendors from all various planets and solar systems,” Brian nodded sagely.

A look of longing appeared on Mikey’s face. “It must be wondrous.”

“It is,” Brian said, stroking his chin. “But it can be a crazy at times as well. Lots of running.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it after we rescue the others.”

Brian looked insulted. “Of course. Can you imagine Gee’s reaction to Alien Bob?”

Mikey snorted. “He’d go nuts.” Then he sighed. “I miss him being him.”

“I know.”

There were a few minutes of silence as Brian and Mikey watched the scanner and Bob work.

“Any luck yet?” Brian finally asked, feet still swinging.

Bob held up a finger and the other hand typed for another thirty seconds before there was a pinging sound. “Got you, sucker.”

“Bob?”

“I know what species we’re dealing with,” Bob stated smugly. “And I know how to fix everyone.”

Mikey let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in and his shoulders started to shake with repressed sobs.

“Mikey?” The concern was in stereo from both Brian and Bob.

“Sorry, just, you said you’ll be able to fix everyone.” Mikey then fixed Bob with a look. “You’ll be able to fix Gee.”

Bob nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be able to fix Gee.”

Brian hopped off the bed he was occupying and pulled Mikey up and sat next to him. Wrapping an arm around the shaken young man, he looked at Bob. “So? What are we dealing with besides aliens?”

Grabbing the tablet that was plugged into the wall, Bob hopped up on the scanner bed next to Mikey and showed the tablet to the two humans.

On the screen were dozens of what looked like tiny white pieces of very flat fat.

“These are the Pario. A parasitic alien species that feed on creative energy,” Bob started to explain. “It starts off just as one Pario and then it divides itself inside a person's brain and attaches itself to different parts of the brain and controls them. The person becomes a host and food supply for it.”

Mikey looked sick as he stared at the tablet. “And this was inside of me? The others?”

“Yes,” Bob stated bluntly. “It’s still in you, but the Pario bodies inside of you are dead so you don’t have to worry about being possessed again.”

Paling, Mikey twisted out of Brian’s grasp, bent over and became sick, liquid splashing the floor. Hands rubbed Mikey’s back as he heaved a couple of more times and sat back up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Bob. “How do we get those fuckers out of me?”

“Salt.”

“Salt?” Mikey and Brian asked incredulously.

“Well, a high concentration of liquidized salt, enough to dry those suckers out. I’ll probably have to weaponize it into some kind of tranquilizer dart, and I’m afraid you’ll be puking again,” Bob apologized and patted Mikey on the shoulder.

“Great,” Mikey muttered and leaned against Brian.

“Look, go get some rest,” Bob ordered and pointed at the open door. “It’s been a very long day for you.” He gently squeezed Mikey’s knee. “I’ll wake you the minute I have the solution, okay?”

Mikey nodded, tired after the day’s events.

“C’mon Mikeyway,” Brian said, tugging Mikey up to his feet. “You can crash in my room for now.”

Following Brian, Mikey was barely aware of his surroundings, the events of the day finally catching up to him. His jacket was taken off and he was poured into the most comfortable bed he ever felt. He let out a little moan of appreciation, closing his eyes and felt his shoes taken off.

“Sleep, Mikey.” And a hand gently brushed his hair as the covers were pulled over him and he slowly fell asleep.

END PART 3.


	4. Chapter 4

Bob was looking at the screen in the main control room of his TARDIS when Mikey wandered in. He looked better and like he had gotten some sleep.

“Hey, Mikeyway,” Bob smiled at Mikey. Mikey returned the smile and gave a small wave. “Feeling better?”

Mikey nodded, but wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned in the doorway. “Is the solution ready to save the others?”

Bob nodded. “I was actually just about to go and wake you up to let you know.” He chuckled. “Looks like you beat me to that.”

A small smiled graced Mikey’s lips and he ducked his head.

“C’mon,” Bob started to say and when Mikey looked up, Bob was in front of him. He never heard him approach. “Let’s get those Pario out of you.”

Letting himself be led to the ‘Medical Room’ as Bob called it, it was like a maze in Bob’s ship, Mikey sat on one of the medical beds. “So, now what?”

Holding up a syringe filled with clear liquid and an antibacterial wipe, Bob gestured at Mikey’s arm. “Now, we get you puking.”

“Joy,” Mikey deadpanned and removed his red jacket. He held out his arm.

Kicking a bucket over, Bob wiped Mikey’s arm down and slid the needle in. Depressurising the syringe, Bob watched as liquid left the clear tube. Pulling it out, he tossed it onto the table nearby and stuck a band aid on Mikey’s arm.

“How long does it take for it to work?” Mikey asked as soon as Bob was done. But any answer Bob might’ve given was halted as Mikey felt his stomach clench and he was scrambling off the bed and puking into the bucket.

“About now,” Bob winced at the sound and went to go grab some water and a wet cloth.

After a few minutes, Mikey finally stopped. Bob handed the water and he took it gratefully as he washed out his mouth and spat into the bucket.

“I hate you,” Mikey moaned as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No you don’t,” Bob chuckled and removed the bucket. He tossed it into the incinerator. “You love me.”

“Hate!”

“Who are we hating and why?” Brian asked from the doorway as he entered the Medical Room.

“Bob,” Mikey answered and slowly stood up. “I don’t think I’ve puked that much since I was drinking.”

Brian hummed. “Pario all gone?”

Bob ran a scanner over Mikey and nodded, smiling at the readings he got. “The Pario are all gone.”

“Now the others,” Mikey insisted.

“I got the tranquilizer guns ready at the front,” Bob said.

Brian just laughed. “I have been waiting to shoot Frank for years and now I can!”

“Brian!” Bob hissed at him.

Brian waved him off. “Oh like you haven’t been wanting to take a shot at Frank either.”

Then laughter reached their ears. They looked over to see Mikey bent over with laughter. Tears leaking from his eyes as he clutched his stomach.

“Mikey?” Bob asked in concern, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Just, it takes fucking aliens for us to shoot Frankie with guns,” Mikey chuckled and wiped the tears away.

Bob and Brian snorted.

They headed to the front of the TARDIS, guns waiting with extra darts on the table in front of the couches. Bob pressed a few buttons on the control panel and the ship made a noise as it landed.

“Where’d we land?” Brian asked as he picked up one of the tranquilizer guns.

“Back in the desert,” Bob replied as he looked at Brian, glancing away from a monitor. “A few minutes after we first picked up, Mikey.”

“Back on set,” Mikey said softly, picking up his own gun.

Nodding, Bob came over and handed out the extra cartridges, then picked up his own gun. Showing the two how to quickly reload and fire the guns, Bob headed to the front doors.

“It’s only a few minutes after we left,” Bob explained. And then he handed Brian an epi pen. “Mikey is now immune, and so am I because of my physiology, but you aren’t Bri. If they touch you at all, they can infect you. You inject yourself with that, okay?” He stated seriously, looking directly into Brian’s eyes.

Brian nodded. “Understood,” And then grinned. “Lock and load gentlemen?”

Mikey and Bob groaned and headed out of the TARDIS ignoring Brian’s “What?”

The sun shone brightly on them as they were back in the desert, amongst the music video props and dust. It was eerily quiet as the wind silently swept the dust and dirt around them in small funnels at their feet.

Guns held in a ready position, they swept through the music video set, eyes glancing for any sign of their friends.

“Where are they?” Mikey asked frustrated, gun hanging at his side.

Brian gestured at Bob’s hoodie pocket. “Can’t you just scan for the Pario in their bodies or something?”

Bob shook his head. “Nope, there’s something in the ground interfering with any kind of scans I could do.”

“Great,” Brian muttered and went back to scanning his surroundings.

They’d been searching the set for at least another twenty minutes when Mikey let out a disgusted noise.

“This is getting us nowhere!” Mikey growled out and looked at the others. “I know this is cliché to even suggest, but I think we should split up. We can cover more ground.”

Bob and Brian looked at one another and had a conversation without words. It was easy to do, they’d been friends for years and Brian was quite versed in Bob’s facial expressions.

“All right, but we’re going to get some sort of communications going here so we’re not red shirted,” Brian pointed out.

Already digging into the depths of his hoodie pockets—Bob had transformed the pockets to be bigger on the inside like his ship—he pulled out three Bluetooth headsets and synched them up to their cells phones. Bob tossed the pieces at Mikey and Brian, and they fastened them into their ears.

Brian speared both with a look, skills of herding the both of them coming to the fore. “Do check-ins every five minutes, okay?”

Sloppy salutes, pats on the shoulders and “good luck’s” passed around as they agreed.

Splitting up, they took off to different directions.

~~~

Splitting up was always a bad idea in Bob’s opinion, but unfortunately, they could cover more ground like this. With a sigh, he headed into the open doorway of the diner. The sun was streaming in from the windows, but that was the only source of light inside the building, as far as Bob could see.

Skirting behind the front counter, Bob slowly entered the kitchen in the back. His gun rose, and his blue eyes scanned for any sign of the guys.

Bob’s eyes widened in surprise as a hard shove at the middle of his back sent him sprawling down the aisle of the kitchen in between stoves and counters. Bob somersaulted and got his to his feet with his gun raised to see who had shoved him.

It was Ray.

Ray tilted his head and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. Nothing of the Ray Toro that Bob knew was in this person—this Pario.

“Bob Bryar,” Ray stated and tilted his head the other way. “You were here earlier. You were the one who made the noise that took us out.”

Bob smirked. “Guilty.” He raised the gun to his eye level.

Ray seemed to really look at Bob. “You know what we are.”

“I do,” Bob nodded and fired the gun. The dart left with a little puff of air and sped toward Ray’s neck. A hand darted out and caught the dart and Ray turned it over in his hands.

He licked the needle and then spat. “Salt!” He growled at Bob. “How?”

“Time Lord,” Bob gestured at himself and fired the gun again a couple of more times. This time, Ray didn’t move fast enough, stunned at the information Bob just imparted on him, and the dart sunk itself into the back of Ray’s hand who had tried to catch it.

Striding forward, Bob smirked. “Time Lord, One. Pario, Zero.”

Turning his hand over to look at the dart, Ray smirked at Bob. “Maybe, but know this, Time Lord, you won’t win in the end.” Then he doubled over and started to puke.

Touching a hand to his blue tooth headset, Bob spoke into the mic. “Ray’s free.”

“Good job!” Brian crowed into Bob’s ear. “I think I have a lead on Frankie. Going to go check it out.”

“Be careful,” Bob said worriedly and then spoke again. “Mikey?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Mikey!” This was not good. “Answer me, damnit!”

“Mikey’s not home, right now!” Gerard’s voice came on the other end. “Why don’t you come out and play, Bobert!”

Bob growled into the mic and knew Brian would go into radio silence to make sure Gerard and Frank couldn’t find him. A low moan brought his attention back to Ray, who was done puking and was now trying to stand up.

Sliding down to his knees, Bob helped Ray up. “You with me, Ray?” He checked the guitarist’s eyes for any kind of clarity. Any sign of _Ray_.

Shaking and blinking furiously, Ray brought his hand with the dart still stuck in it up and then _looked_ at Bob. “Bob?” Plucking the dart out, Ray winced and then groaned again. “My head. Why are you here? What happened?”

“Do you remember what happened? Anything at all?” Bob asked worriedly, afraid that Ray might not remember being possessed. Because while Mikey remembered, it didn’t mean the others would.

“I...” Ray trailed off and Bob could see the moment when everything slammed home for Ray. The taller man twisted out of Bob’s grasp and bent over, dry heaving bile as there was nothing left in his stomach for him to bring up. Ray grasped weakly at Bob’s forearm. “Bob! Bob, oh God. I am so sorry!” He looked at Bob. “Those things—I couldn’t do _anything!_ ”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bob soothed Ray. “I’m here to fix things.”

Ray weakly nodded. Bob always fixed things.

It was a constant in the universe.

Slowly standing up, Ray wiped away the excess spit and bile from his lips and looked at Bob expectantly. Like he had the answers. Which he did, it was just going to be hard to explain things.

“Right, so, I think the Pario using Gee’s body has Mikey, and Brian went after Frank,” Bob explained as he checked the tranquilizer gun.

“Brian’s here?” Ray asked quietly.

“Of course he’s here,” Bob snorted as they started to exit out of the kitchen and the Diner. He turned around to raise an eyebrow in Ray’s direction. “You’d think he’d miss the chance to shoot Frank?”

Ray snorted quietly, and Bob sighed, relieved. He didn’t need Ray freaking out right now; freaking out could be dealt with after they took care of the Pario and freed the others.

“C’mon, let’s go find the others,” Bob ordered, making a ‘come’ motion with his hand. Ray trailed after him as they met the dustiness of outside.

Something caught the corner of his eye as he glanced around, and Bob looked down to see a disregarded tranquilizer gun and some sort of Frankenstein mask.

“That’s Frankie’s mask,” Ray said and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. “It’s part of his costume for the video shoot.”

Bob picked up the tranquilizer gun and clenched it tightly. “I gave this to Brian.” Taking a closer look around, he noticed the epi pen in the dust next to the vending machine; picking it up, he stuffed it into his hoodie pocket. “Shit,” Bob muttered.

“Bob?”

“I think they got Brian,” Bob whispered and then handed the gun to Ray.

“Shit,” Ray echoed and carefully handled the gun as he tossed the mask back to the ground. “Maybe Frank is around?” He offered tentatively.

“If he is, be careful,” Bob cautioned. “We don’t know if he’ll be Frank or Pario Frank.”

“Great,” Ray muttered and then remembered what Bob said. “Brian is here?” Asking the question again.

Bob nodded. “Like he’d leave you guys like this.”

A moan caught their attention, interrupting anything Ray might’ve said on the subject of Brian Schechter and they slowly approached the gas station section of the diner, guns raised slightly as they circled around the pumps.

There, on the ground, laid Frank in a puddle of puke. A dart was sticking out of his backside as he dry heaved.

“Frank?” Ray asked cautiously as they slowly approached the downed guitarist. Wondering if it was his friend and not the alien that had been possessing him the past little while.

Bob stood guard as Ray checked went to go check his friend over.

Frank dry heaved one more time and looked up through bleary eyes. “Ray? That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Frank,” Ray said quietly as he leaned down. Groaning, Frank leaned against Ray, wrapped an arm around Ray’s waist and looked around. “What’s going on? Last thing I remember—” He then groaned as he placed his head into his free hand. “What the fuck man?” Looking up, his eyes widened and Bob and Ray knew that Frank finally remembered. “Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!” He started to gasp in short breaths.

“Breathe, Frank!” Ray ordered as Frank leaned over to put his head between his knees.

“We were fucking possessed!” Frank pointed out and then looked up and at Ray. “What the fuck, man?” He then looked around. “I think Brian was here; he shot me!”

“He’s been threatening to do it for years, Frank,” Ray pointed out with a tight smile. “Are you really that surprised?”

“I’m more wondering why he’s here,” Frank huffed out and that’s when he finally noticed Bob. “Bob!”

Bob then let out a grunt as he had an armful of Frank, who wrapped around him like a lemur. “Bobert!” Frank cried out and then climbed down. He then looked a bit sheepish. “I am so sorry we kicked you out. That wasn’t me; it wasn’t us.”

“I know,” Bob said and shifted uncomfortably. “How about we go find the others?” He asked as he gestured with his gun.

Ray then crossed his arms. “Not until you tell us what’s going on, Bob. We know what happened to us, but how did you know what to do to free us? How do you know about the Pario?”

“Look, Mikey sent some texts to Brian’s phone because mine wasn’t working,” Bob shrugged. “As for how I knew how to free you two, I would like to wait until we free the others to tell that story.” Bob looked away. “It’s a long story and I only want to tell it once.” He looked at Ray and Frank with honest eyes. “You’ll have to trust me until then.”

Exchanging a look, Ray and Frank nodded.

“All right, Bob, but I hope it’s a good explanation,” Frank said as he lightly chucked Bob on the chin with a fist.

Bob smiled. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t I get a gun?” Frank asked with a whine.

“No,” Bob and Ray said in unison and stalked off, with Frank trailing after them, pouting.

~~~

Their search brought them to a small prop warehouse where multiple colourful items were strewn about. An American flag with a spider on it was hanging from the rafters.

The room also held a smirking Gerard Way with an arm wrapped tightly around Mikey’s neck.

“Mikey, you okay?” Bob asked him, gun raised and aimed it in Gerard’s direction.

“Yeah,” Mikey croaked out.

Gerard raised his hand, finger waggling in their direction. “Now, now, I’d put the guns down, Bob, Ray.”

“I don’t think so,” Ray darkly stated.

The sound of a high-pitched whine echoed from behind them. “Oh, I think so.”

The trio turned around at the sound of the voice and saw Brian holding some sort of blocky gun at them with a red light at the bottom.

“Brian,” Bob whispered.

Brian tilted his head and looked at Bob. “I’d surrender if you don’t want your friends hurt, Time Lord.”

‘Time Lord?’ Ray and Frank mouthed as they looked back and forth between Bob and Brian.

Bob hefted his gun a bit higher, but stopped when Brian turned the gun on his own head and smirked at him. “I’m not averse to killing my host.”

Blue eyes widened and Bob slowly lowered his gun to the ground and looked at Ray to do the same. Scowling, Ray did so, and they both kicked the guns to the side.

“Good boy,” Brian stated and pistol-whipped the side of Bob’s mouth with the gun.

Grunting, Bob fell forward to his hands and knees. Licking his lips, he spat out some blood into the dirt and felt hands help him up. Bob nodded his thanks at Frank and glared at Brian, who gestured at them with the gun. “Forward, little humans.”

Glaring, they made their way over to Gerard and Mikey, who tossed the bassist toward them. Ray caught Mikey, who clutched at his jacket.

“Hey, Ray,” Mikey quietly murmured.

“Hey, Mikeyway,” Ray murmured back, rubbing a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. Frank joined the hug with a muffled “sorry” into Mikey’s jacket.

“Not your fault,” Mikey whispered back.

“This is touching and all, but we have to meet Mother now,” Gerard interrupted them. Brian had gone to stand next to him.

“Mother?” Bob asked and winced. His jaw was killing him.

“Mother,” Gerard and Brian whispered reverently and then they suddenly dropped to one knee.

A sinking feeling entered his stomach, and Bob slowly turned around, the others following his lead.

There, in front of them stood Mike Pedicone.

“Mike?” Bob asked incredulously.

Mike scoffed and there was a downward turn to his lips. “I am the Hive. I am Creation. I am Mother.” He spread his arms wide. “The one you know as Mike no longer lives.”

Bob hissed out an expletive as Gerard and Brian walked up to the being known as Mother and bowed low.

Brian then pointed at Bob. “Mother, he is the one I told you about.”

Mike walked up to Bob and moved his face from side to side with a hand. “You don’t look like much, Time Lord. Your entire race destroyed,” He laughed. “And here you are hiding on Earth.”

Bob scowled at Mike. Subtly working a hand into his hoodie pocket, he closed it around the epi pen. “I’m more of a behind the scenes man.” With that statement, Bob head butted Mike who stumbled back clutching his nose and then Bob jammed the epi pen into his neck.

“Mother!!” Brian and Gerard cried out and scrambled forward to help Mike. They suddenly jerked back as their bodies each had a dart sticking out of their shoulders, and then two more darts found their way onto Mike’s chest.

“Take that, motherfuckers!” Frank crowed and grinned, holding the tranquilizer gun. “Paintball finally paid off.”

Howling in agony, Mike fell to his knees as his skin started to bubble. Bob grabbed the gun from Frank and pointed it at Mike. “I don’t like it when my friends are hurt, and you’ve hurt them the past few months.”

Coughing up blood, Mike grinned through bloody teeth. “You may have stopped me, but you won’t be able to stop the invasion, Time Lord.” Then his body collapsed on its side as it slowly dissolved.

Huffing, Bob looked up to see Ray, Frank and Mikey at Brian and Gerard’s sides.

Both men were puking, knees bent, with Mikey rubbing Gerard’s back. Bob hurried over to Brian to check on him.

Brian wiped away the last of the bile from his mouth and pointed a finger at Bob. “Hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Bob chuckled. “You all right?”

“I was just fucking possessed,” Brian growled at Bob, looking up and glared. “Again!”

Bob winced. “Sorry.”

Brian sighed. “Not your fault. Frankie got the drop of me and touched me before I could grab the epi pen, but I managed to fire the dart before I was overtaken.”

“I saw.”

Then Bob yelped as he suddenly had a back full of Gerard. After a couple of years of not seeing the man, he still knew the feel of him. “Hey, Gerard.”

“Bob, Bob! I am so sorry!” Gerard apologized and squeezed Bob harder. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, Gee, I know,” Bob soothed the man as he turned around in the grip. “It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t me,” Gerard insisted.

“Gerard!” Bob caught his attention and pulled Gerard into a hug. “It’s okay.”

Gerard blinked at Bob and then nodded.

The others slowly came over, which caught Bob’s attention.

“That was it?” Mikey asked in disbelief.

“Did you want it to be harder?” Bob snorted at him.

Mikey quickly shook his head.

“So, now what?” Ray asked as he looked around. “Do we just go back to our lives after all of that?”

Bob shook his head as he slowly stood up, Gerard still clinging to him. “Mike or Mother was talking about an invasion. I’m thinking the Pario infected more humans, not just you guys.”

The others quietly seethed. The past few months of them not even being in control of themselves—they wouldn’t wish that on anybody.

Meanwhile, Frank was looking at Bob. “So what, are you not human anymore?”

“I was never human, Frankie, just hiding,” Bob shrugged. “I just didn’t realize it until recently.”

“He’s got a spaceship,” Mikey added helpfully.

“It flies through time and space,” Brian grinned at the others.

Bob groaned. “Seriously you guys, stop helping.”

“So Bob is really an alien?” Gerard asked disbelievingly.

“He is, but a good alien, not like those, Pario,” Mikey shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. Gerard finally let go of Bob and went over to hug Mikey.

Mikey leaned into the hug.

“How are we going to deal with the invasion then?” Ray asked tapping the tranquilizer gun on his thigh.

“With my ship,” Bob declared and grinned. “It’s this way.”

They followed Bob out of the video shoot set, resolutely ignoring The Mother’s melted remains. They were all clinging to one another as Bob led them to a vending machine prop.

“It’s just a prop, Bob,” Ray said, gesturing at the object.

Brian grinned. “Not just a prop.” He walked through the front.

“What the hell?” Frank asked gleefully and followed Brian through. Ray touched the cover of the vending machine and his hand went right through.

“Wow,” Ray whispered and walked forward.

Bob gestured to the vending machine. “Gerard? Mikey? After you?”

Mikey grinned at Bob and pulled Gerard through as Bob followed them inside. Ray, Frank and Gerard were looking around in wonder as Mikey and Brian flopped down on one of the couches.

Quickly getting over to the control panels, Bob got them into flight. The ship lurched a little, sending people stumbling.

“What was that?” Gerard asked confused.

“I just put us into flight,” Bob explained pushing a few buttons. “And now we’re in the Time Vortex.” He walked over to the others.

“Are you going to explain things now?” Frank asked as he flopped backward onto the couch next to Brian.

The others joined Frank on the couch and the floor. Bob wandered over and sat down on the coffee table in front of them. “So what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Everything, huh?” Bob looked at them. “Okay.”

And he told them his story. By the time he was done, his voice was hoarse and they were looking at Bob in disbelief.

“Wow,” Frank said quietly and then looked at Brian. “And you got roped into what, being his?”

“Friend? Companion?” Brian ventured forth. “He needed me and I wasn’t going to get left behind.”

“Aww,” Frank cooed at them. “You two are so sweet you’re giving me cavities.”

Bob exchanged a look with Brian, who nodded and dumped Frank on the floor.

“What now?” Gerard asked softly, clinging onto Mikey.

“Now, you get some sleep and we’ll look at dealing with whatever invasion the Pario have cooked up in the morning,” Bob said gruffly, slapping his knee.

~~~

Bob was working on a dispersal unit to launch into the Earth’s atmosphere. He had done a scan of the Earth while everyone slept and it left him disturbed. The Pario had infected more than a third of the population.

The parasitic creatures were all dormant, but it wouldn’t take much for them to activate and take over their hosts.

Dark glasses covered his eyes as he wielded a welder’s torch and connected various wires and tubing inside the device. He paused and stopped as he looked up to see Gerard sleepily shuffling into the control room.

“Gerard?” Bob asked softly as he turned off the welder, setting it aside and moved his goggles up.

The brightly coloured hair man knuckled the sleep out of his eyes and flopped next to Bob, leaning his head against Bob’s shoulder. “I want—”

Bob sucked in a breath. Most nights after Gerard got sober; he would stay up and start sentences as ‘I want—’ trying to curb his need for a drink.

Gerard’s eyes went wide seeing a familiar look on Bob’s face. A look that went back to when he was first getting sober. “No! I don’t need a drink or anything, just, I want things to make sense again.”

Bob exhaled slowly, pleased it wasn’t going down that path. “I’m sorry you got pulled into this.”

“Why?” Gerard asked confused. “You’re not the one who got us possessed. You saved us, Bob.”

He shook his head. “I could’ve remembered sooner or done something more when I was in the band.”

“No, those things might’ve killed you,” Gerard said softly. “Getting out saved you and in turn, saved us.” He laid a hand on Bob’s knee. “We never wanted you out of the band, even with your wrists all mucked up.”

Bob bit his lip ring.

“You were ours,” Gerard stated fiercely and looked up and into Bob’s blue eyes. “And I hope you’ll come back.”

Bob pulled Gerard into a hug so fierce the singer squeaked.

“Thank you,” Bob breathed and pulled back. “I just, it’s—let’s stop the invasion first, and then talk about me coming back to the band.”

Sensing that Bob needed to concentrate on one thing at a time, Gerard nodded. “Okay.”

Lying down on the couch, Gerard fell asleep as Bob went back to work on finishing the dispersal unit.

~~~

Everyone gathered around the rocket-looking object as Bob set it up near his TARDIS doors.

“So, what exactly is this supposed to do?” Ray asked as he poked the device with a finger.

“While you were all sleeping, I did some scans and found out the Pario managed to infect at least a third of the planet’s population,” Bob explained as he pressed a few buttons and then closed the panel. “They’re all dormant, but it wouldn’t take much for them to activate and take over their host.”

Bob stood up to the various questions by everyone. He held up a hand for silence and they quieted down immediately.

“It’s a safer dispersal unit than the tranq darts and I just need to fire the rocket into the atmosphere and boom!” Bob grinned ferally. “No more Pario.”

“The people infected, they won’t throw up, will they?” Frank asked, looking at Bob.

Bob shrugged. “They might, just depends on how heavily infected they are.”

“But you just said it was a safer dispersal,” Mikey pointed out.

“It is, but there are effects,” Bob sighed as he set up a detonator to the rocket. “Like there is with any kind of medicine, but I triple checked and no one will die.”

“All right, so how do we help with this?” Frank asked, gesturing at the rocket.

“Well...” Bob trailed off and opened the TARDIS doors.

The other’s eyes went wide and they crowded around the open doorway to see a bunch of clouds.

“Where are we?” Gerard asked awed.

“In the Earth’s atmosphere,” Bob explained and set the rocket on its side and aimed it toward the open door. “You might want to move back.”

Everyone quickly scattered to the sides of the ship.

Bob grimly stared at the sky and pressed the button. The rocket rumbled to life and flew out of the ship and into the atmosphere. Flicking the switch on the box held in his hands, Bob waited a few seconds and then hit the second switch. The rocket blew up and several, smaller rockets flew off, streaking across the sky.

“They’ll explode and then the solution will disperse into the atmosphere resulting in an Earth wide cure,” Bob smirked.

“Wow, you are so awesome, Bob!” Frank declared and tackled the Time Lord.

Bob caught Frank. “I know.”

“That’s it then?” Brian asked.

“Yeah,” Bob nodded.

“I expected something more—” Ray gestured with a hand.

“Flashy?” Mikey asked as Ray nodded in agreement.

“Hey, Earth is saved, no more Pario scumbag; I say we party,” Frank said from his position clinging to Bob.

“No quoting Buffy,” Gerard stated, pointing at Frank.

“I wasn’t quoting Buffy; I was merely paraphrasing.” Frank sniffed and then yelped as Bob dropped him on the ground.

“What do we do now?” Mikey asked.

“Now, I take you guys back to your music video shoot,” Bob said, closing the doors of the TARDIS and heading over to the control board.

“What?” Ray asked disbelieving.

“It’s time to take you guys home,” Bob stated as he pressed various buttons.

“You’re coming with us, right?” Gerard asked as he tugged on Bob’s hoodie sleeve.

Bob ducked away from Gerard’s grip and sent the ship into flight. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Ray asked curiously. “You do realize that it wasn’t us who kicked you out, right?”

“I know,” Bob admitted.

“You’re still a part of this band,” Gerard insisted.

“Am I?”

“Of course!” Mikey said pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against. “Even trapped in our bodies as we were, we still considered you our drummer.”

“Guys,” Brian softly said.

“Just, can you guys wait for me a bit?” Bob asked softly, ducking his head. “I still need to do something.”

“Great, we’ll come with,” Frank declared.

“No, you aren’t,” Bob stated as the ship landed with a gentle thump. “I have to do this myself.” He looked at Brian. “And that means you’re leaving too.”

Brian crossed his arms. “No.”

“Yes,” Bob insisted. “I need to do this.”

“Do what exactly?” Gerard asked.

Bob sighed. _His band mates were persistent._ “I need to find out what happened to my planet and I’m close, so close. I just need a couple more parts and I can track any survivors.”

“And you need to do this on your own,” Ray pointed out flatly.

“Yes!” Bob exclaimed.

Gerard looked at Bob and then nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” The others questioned.

“Yes, okay,” Gerard said, nodding his head, and fixed Bob with a look. “But as soon as you find out, you’re coming right back.”

“Of course,” Bob agreed. “We’re a band.”

“Fucking right,” Frank smirked.

~~~

It had been six months since Bob dropped them back off at the video shoot for ‘Na Na Na,’ including a protesting Brian. But Bob promised them he’d be back, and they watched as the TARDIS dematerialized away from them.

They were in between cities right now, the bus steadily on its way to the next venue.

“I miss Bob,” Gerard sighed as he leaned against Frank.

“He’ll be back, Gee,” Frank promised, carding his fingers through Gerard’s bright hair.

Mikey looked up from texting on his cell phone. “He promised. Bob always keeps his promises.”

Brian nodded from his laptop at the table.

A sound started to fill the tour bus. It was the sound of grinding engines, a sound part of the universe, and it was a very familiar to everyone’s ears.

Ray’s eyes went wide. “Where is he landing?”

The sound stopped and as one they looked at the door leading to the studio at the back of the bus.

“You don’t think?” Ray wondered aloud.

“Oh, I do!” Gerard exclaimed excitedly as he strode forward, the others following him. Placing a hand on the door handle, Gerard turned it and pushed it open.

The inside of Bob’s ship was the same last time they saw it. The man at the console was not. It was Bob, no mistake about it, but he looked a bit older, the hair longer and the beard even more scraggly.

Bob gave them a tired little wave and a small smile. Happy to see them.

“Bob!” Frank cried out delighted and rushed forward to pounce on the Time Lord.

He was jerked back as a hand grabbed onto his t-shirt and yanked him. Frank’s eyes went wide as he was tossed to the floor. Looking up, he scowled. “What’s the big idea, Ray?”

Ray gestured at Bob. “He looks tired; do you really want to take him out now and then when he’s feeling better later on, take you out?”

Frank looked like he was contemplating his answer before sighing and slumping bonelessly to the ground. Patting Frank’s cheek, Ray grinned. “Good boy.”

Bob snorted.

The others came forward and engulfed Bob in a hug. Excited by his return, even if he did look like extremely tired.

“Missed you, Bob,” Mikey murmured as he tightened his hold and then pulled away.

“Missed you guys too,” Bob quietly stated and smiled crookedly at them.

“Don’t do that to us again,” Brian said softly, lightly slapping Bob on the shoulder. Bob pulled him in for a one armed hug which Brian returned.

If anyone heard them sniff, they didn’t comment on it.

They discreetly wiped at their eyes and noses as they crowded around him, leading him to the couch. They took up positions around Bob, wanting to be close, but not to overcrowd him.

After a few minutes of silence, Frank was bouncing in his seat. “So? Did you find out what happened?”

Bob yawned, but nodded. “I did.”

“And?”

Chuckling, Bob cuffed Frank on the jaw. “Took me awhile to track down the last two parts, built what I needed and then I found him.”

“Him who?” Gerard asked leaning against Bob, curiosity burning in his eyes.

“The Doctor,” Bob whispered putting an arm around Gerard. “And he explained everything.”

“Was it what you were expecting?” Mikey asked quietly, fingers picking at the fabric on his dark jeans.

Bob shook his head. “No, but it was so much more.”

Ray placed a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “So tell us.”

The looks everyone was giving him said they wouldn’t judge. Bob told them what The Doctor did during about the Time War and what happened to Gallifrey. The others were wide eyed by the time Bob was done talking and he was leaning heavily on Gerard, letting the singer pet his hair.

“You just left him after hearing all of that?” Frank finally asked in disbelief.

“Punched him in the jaw actually,” Bob sighed and shrugged a little. “Helped him up afterwards, forgave him, gave him my contact info and came back to you guys.”

“You were just done,” Mikey pointed out.

Bob nodded. “I was tired and wanted to come home.”

Gerard squeaked at that and pulled Bob in for another hug.

“Gee,” Bob protested and pushed at Gerard a little. But Gerard seemed to be using superhuman strength and kept up his hold on Bob.

“Was it this Doctor guy that knocked you out and dumped you in front of the orphanage?” Brian asked, placing his hands behind his head as he leaned against the couch.

Bob shook his head. “The Doctor thinks it was the woman who donated genetic material to my looming.”

“Looming?” Ray asked confused.

Bob shrugged. “Gallifreyians are loomed, not born. But yeah, he thinks it was her. She apparently cared about me a little more than other genetic donors would about their own offspring.”

The others kind of blinked at him, not sure if to believe him.

“What?” Bob asked defensively.

“Nothing, it’s just I think you’ve explained more about your species then you have about human you in the entire time we’ve know you, Bob,” Mikey pointed out reasonably.

Bob groaned. “I know, my kind tend to – run on apparently in explanations.”

“Ah, bad guy monologuing,” Frank nodded sagely.

Feeling totally justified, Bob pinched Frank’s side hard.

Yelping, Frank retaliated. There was a scrambling on the couch as fingers flew and ticklish spots were exploited. After a couple of minutes, Frank called a truce.

“So, back to Bob’s looming Mom,” Gerard said with a grin and then wilted when Bob aimed a glared at him. “She sounds like quite the woman,” Brian commented.

Bob shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He snorted. “But with what she did, she saved my life.”

“Did you get her name?” Mikey asked curiously.

“The Doctor said she liked to be called Fred,” Bob said, shrugging. “I didn’t get her real name, but he said she was more of a Fred than her Gallifreyian name.”

Frank managed to cover the snort at having a mom named ‘Fred’.

“I’m glad you’re home, Bob,” Gerard murmured. “But are you ready to come back yet? You've been through a life changing event.”

Bob paused and the others watched eagerly to see his answer.

“I am.”

Frank leapt up onto the couch from his spot on the ground and landed on Bob. “Bobert!” He cried out.

Bob let out a grunt as he suddenly had a lapful of Frank, and the others crowding him and hugging.

“We’re going to have to completely redesign the whole idea of The World Contamination Tour,” Gerard stated eagerly and looked over Bob with a critical eye. “I’m seeing a blue stripe in your hair for your Danger Days character.”

“Gee, no,” Bob moaned.

“Bulletproof,” Mikey said with a grin. “That’s what we’re calling him.”

“I’m not naming myself after one of the songs!” Bob protested.

“Too late!” Ray giggled.

“Welcome back, Bob,” Frank said laughing like a hyena.

Bob smiled, crookidly and tiredly. _It was good to be home._

~~~

The fans inside the venue were murmuring exciditly. There was something different about this performance. They could feel it in the air.

Sounds slowly filled the area of the band tuning and warming up. They could see silhouettes, but nothing concrete of who was where.

The drums opened the song _Vampire Money._

 _“Well, are you ready, Ray?”_

A spotlight shone on Ray, grinning as he leaned into the microphone. “Yeah...”

 _“How about you, Frank?”_

“Oh, I’m there, baby!” Frank almost screamed into the microphone as he was illuminated.

 _“How about you, Mikey?”_

“Fuckin’ ready!” Mikey declared, striding forward, yelling into Frank’s microphone.

The drums seemed to pound a little harder and the fans sensed a change in the tempo.

 _“Are you ready to rock, Bob fucking Bryar?”_

The light shined on Bob, back on his throne, arms pounding furiously on the drums as the light highlighted a blue stripe in Bob’s trimmed hair. Beard cut, he leaned into the microphone set up just for this near him and yelled, “I got your back.”

The fans screamed.

 _“Well, I think I’m alright.”_

Gerard grinned as all the stage lights were brought up.

 _”One-Two-Three-Four!”_

My Chemical Romance, with their reinstated manager, Brian, on the side stage, finally reunited, broke out into the song and brought the place down.

And if sometimes they took to the stars in a ship that could travel through time and space, well, no one knew it but them.

 

THE END.


End file.
